


The Christmas Truce

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Enemies to Friends, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Jonathan feels the sharp cold sting of loneliness when he can no longer feel the cold bite of the winter wind. His senses inform him that he is not truly as alone as he thinks, but to welcome the Vampire Hunter closer was a gamble he was just desperate enough to take.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 8
Kudos: 121





	The Christmas Truce

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom so I hope I did these characters justice. I've been binging the game for the last week and just felt the sudden urge to write something soft between these two men. Because they honestly need more soft in their lives..

It was strange, thinking back on it now as the soft white flakes fell and gathered on the shoulders of his jacket, how little the cold affected him now. Jonathan closed his eyes, lifting his head ever so slightly to feel the biting touch of the flakes as they melted against his skin, only mildly warmer than the ice that greeted him after leaving the warm interior of Joe Peterson’s home. The fire had been stoked to make a regular man sweat but that didn’t seem to phase him either. Little did these days. Even as he followed up on a routine check on young Harry, inspecting his sullen features for the small spark that had kindled in the recent months as his father took on more honest work at the docks and distanced himself from the Wet Boot Boys.

Since the end of the plague, Whitechapel had grown eerily quiet. He considered that to be greatly due to the impending cold that swept across the city and left freshly fallen snow across the dirty cobblestones. The nip of ice clinging to wind battered walls and nooks, where shadows were fond of holding dear even in the scant hours of daylight that broke through the wintry gloom overhead. He still didn’t dare leave the safety of his home or the hospital during those brief hours, knowing better than to tempt fate so quickly. Peace was a fleeting notion that he held tightly to in these last few months.

His footsteps were muffled by the snow packing underneath the weight of his approach. The soft crunch of it in the treads of his boots was silenced like all the rest of the usual noise. Something about winter nights had always mesmerized him. The deathly chill and quiet as if the reaper himself had stepped upon the earth and the whole world held its breath for fear of being its next visit. A fear he no longer needed to anticipate. No, he had other concerns that crept so obnoxiously to the forefront of his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to cram them back out of the way, buried under work and the frivolous worries of the season that were far too mundane for his current situation. It was all he had left these days, as bitter and revolting as that thought was. 

He pulled in a long breath of cold air, feeling the crisp notes chill his lungs. The sting was unnoticed as he continued down the quiet streets, not quite intending on making much of the night. Most of his patients were already taken care of, the need for his care had dwindled drastically with the end of the epidemic and his work load had shrunk considerably to the point he was scraping at the most basic bits of the barrel to find  _ something  _ to occupy his nights. Even resorting to the long boring hours of inventory that would typically be Nurse Branagan or Nurse Hawkins jobs. They were more than eager to let him take up the extra work if only to lighten their own tedious workload.

He cut his way across the deserted streets, the prickling sense of loneliness sinking in like a ballast in his stomach weighing him down. The festive lights and decorations brought about a far more painful memory than the ones he frequently shoved away in lieu of nightmares. From a time long before the biting sting of betrayal and the acrid burning of change had seeped into his once mortal body and twisted it into something eternal and unbroken. 

His mind pulled at the days spent huddled in trenches, ankle deep in water and slush, snow falling down as if offering the threat of a brief burial. The cold that seeped into his bones and crippled his hands from their work was painful, even more so at the realization that the only warmth they could find in those days came from being wrist deep in the innards of some poor private unlucky enough to be caught in a shelling. Too many men had limbs changing through the spectrum of decay as one element of their environment or another ate away at their bodies and left them to join the other frozen corpses that lined the walkways in the morning.

It was a gentle irony that the cold no longer bothered him these days but the sight of snow was a brutal reminder of the nights when his body was beyond the throes of comprehending such sensation and even the crippling agony of stiffened muscles was but a dull burn as he worked fruitlessly yet again to save a life not meant to be saved. Fighting for a spirit already broken and lost long before it ended up being ripped apart by shrapnel and lead. The cold hadn’t bothered him much then either, not until the warmth of blood spilled across his hands and the huddled masses of his company men were pressed so close together, that he couldn’t find solace in any other way than the tangle of limbs wound around rifles, heads tucked against shoulders as they settled for the brief hours of sleep gained in intervals of peace.

There’s something uniquely terrifying in how easily social norms were cast aside when everyone involved feared for their lives. The mindset of “ _ I may not live to see another day so why care? _ ” was a common occurrence as layers were shed to warm frozen limbs and physical closeness held only the necessity for survival, ignoring the tiniest hints of comfort that was offered in those moments but was left unspoken for the sake of mind. Men who had families and lovers back home in a considerably different shape than the man they found curled around them to stave off hypothermia and frostbite. The intimacy shared in the trenches was far different than the one found back home. It was as fulfilling as it was painfully lonely.

The closer he got to the West End, he was drawn from his revelry by the sounds of Christmas Carolers joyously singing in the park, lights strung along the fences illuminated the path in colorful displays. The trees were wrapped in equal measure of beautiful arrangements and poinsettia clad wreaths hung every dozen paces along the posts to greet the wandering families who came to enjoy the evening spectacle. It wasn’t something Jonathan had indulged in since he returned from the war and had many fond memories of walking these same paths with Mary at his side, her soft voice murmuring pleasantries as she pointed out the new additions with gasps of awe. The memories they’d share, the gossip that would slip so easily from her lips as she chattered on about the prim and proper men and women who’d pass by, getting him up to speed on the missed opportunities he’d skated by with the easily muttered excuse of work keeping him away from dinner parties and luncheons.

It had all been so dreadfully dull, all those social functions with the bitter barely concealed resentment and silent posturing as each person tried to out do the one standing beside them. He couldn’t stand the stuffiness of the company and would rather spend his extra time in the sterile environment of the hospital listening to elderly patients complain about the ache in their joints when the weather turns foul. Nowadays he found he missed even those times, the ability to socialize without having to hide his fangs behind closely guarded smiles and skirting by the meals he’d so readily forego in his youth that he now agonized over just the memory of it on his tongue. From roasted lamb and sweet wine, to even the most basic of confectioners, pastries and cookies that would make his teeth ache from sweetness alone that he couldn’t even stand the thought of consuming now knowing what would become of him if he even tried.

So many things he had taken for granted that he would never get the chance to enjoy ever again. Just as he could no longer enjoy the cold chill that the wind would whip against his cheeks or the red flush it would leave behind as evidence of his outings. The thrilling burn of the chill seeping into his lungs and making them tight after long walks or even fumbling through the knee deep snow with Mary as they chase each other around with childish glee, tumbling through the snow that would inevitably leave them damp, and so cold they’d complain for hours after as they huddle around the fireplace with copious amounts of blankets and warm tea clutched in their palms to thaw their fingers.

He followed the paths through the park and made his way to the covered market, his steady steps were quiet but the silence that had followed him from Whitechapel had livened up with the night life of the West End as couples shuffled from one shop to the next, picking up last minute gifts or making their way to dinner parties and other assorted gatherings consistent with Christmas eve activities.

It had not gone unnoticed. The subtle prickle of presence that curled in the back of his mind and the nagging nip of being watched as eyes followed him. He had known of the curious gaze as it trailed expertly from Whitechapel, navigating through the park and even venturing so far into the posh markets of the West End. It was a rare occasion to see the Guard of Priwen in this part of town. Geoffrey McCullum had expressed a keen distaste for this area, a dislike that almost rivaled that of his hatred for leeches. For in his mind, the wealthy and influential were a whole other sort of leech on society. One that took from the poor and unfortunate with no qualms, making money off the backs of the impoverished and vulnerable.

It was a view Jonathan could agree with to a point but he didn’t feed Geoffrey’s fire. The man certainly had more than enough inside him to warm the world if he’d choose to share. Both in hatred and in passion. Two conflicting sides that never ceased to inspire and mesmerize Jonathan, though he knew better than to allow himself to fall to such temptations. It would only gain him a stake through the heart and a head lacking a body to boot. He didn’t give in that he was aware of McCullum’s pursuits, listing to the side where a small clothing shop waited with large glass windows advertising the name in shocking golden letters. He meandered, waiting to see if the hunter would wander off on his own and give up.

Jonathan knew better than to expect such simplicity. The feeling of eyes never wavered from him though Geoffrey’s hiding spot was well concealed from the general populace, Jonathan could see his heart beating through the walls. The bright life, that endearing spark of energy that rivalled all others he’s come in contact with. It was the pulse that Jonathan had become intimately aware of with all their past encounters and one he honed in on the fastest. Despite Geoffrey’s comfort at that, Jonathan had a strangely affectionate bond with the hunter and even the spitting denial of the man wouldn’t sway him away from his fondness. It was a queer thing indeed that Jonathan gave up on trying to decipher many moons ago. They’ve saved each other more times than not and spared one another with bitter remarks and sharp witted banter, never truly acknowledging that they were incapable of really harming one another. That they, for some odd reason, sought each other out. In this great big city, it was hard to ignore that rarely a night would pass when they would not cross paths with one another. Be it unseen forces at work or their own subconscious, there was a pull between them that was beyond description and comprehension.

Jonathan took his time in picking out the merchandise, choosing to find something of use with his time while testing the hunter’s patience for his own amusement. The young woman behind the desk eagerly packed his items away in a cardboard box, carefully wrapped in tissue paper. The exterior was then wrapped and tied up in a frilly red bow with golden patterns woven throughout. He collected the parcel, smiling politely at the woman as he paid and gathered it up to leave. Not to his disappointment, Geoffrey resumed his pursuit as Jonathan navigated the market with thoughtful care. His senses keenly following the hunter but he gave not a single hint at his awareness until they turned the street where a small alley cut between houses. It was far quieter here, with no foot traffic. Most of the neighborhood was already dark and turned in for the evening while others were filled with the warmth and laughter of parties being hosted before tomorrow’s festivities.

“It would be less conspicuous if you’d just accompany me Geoffrey. All this sneaking around is sure to gain the attention of the police.” Jonathan spoke up as he turned to face the street behind him. Geoffrey had ducked behind the wall before he turned but Jonathan could see that pulsing light of life that beat with an ungodly amount of calm. He waited, could hear the soft breath that left the man before he moved with all the careful grace of a predatory feline, the ease of confidence that rolled off of him was tantalizing in a way Jonathan had never seen before. A look so uniquely Geoffrey that it would look overbearing or ridiculous on any other man.

“I don’t need tips from a leech.” He hissed, a barely concealed shiver skirting through his body as the wind picked up in the narrow space, turning it into a funnel for the cold weather to magnify itself in. The snow that blew against Geoffrey’s back was obviously unpleasant but the man was able to hide his displeasure well.

“Apparently.” Jonathan hummed. “I’m surprised to see you though-”

“Did you think I’d let a leech like you go unsupervised on one of the busiest nights of the year?” Geoffrey growled, a suspicious glint in his eyes directed at Jonathan. His hand twitched at his side, a subtle gesture that was nearly missed. Were he a lesser man, Jonathan would have thought he was nervous but his heart didn’t bely that. It was something more beneath that aborted action that was beyond Jonathan’s reach.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you Geoffrey.” It was softened with a smile that pulled a face from McCullum. Jonathan let out a breathy chuckle as he turned to continue walking. “Come on then. If you’re determined to follow me all night, might as well make it somewhere warmer than here.”

Geoffrey didn’t hesitate to trail after him. He kept his distance at first, a healthy amount of suspicion wedged between them. But either from the relentless cold or the sudden influx of people around them as they rejoined the busier streets, McCullum joined Jonathan by his side, occasionally bumping elbows with him when certain areas grew too crowded near the busier shops.

The silence that settled between them was broken up by the curious questions offered by the Hunter as if the sheer mundane feel of the situation left him all sorts of uncomfortably conflicted. It wasn’t the same as walking among the crowds in the market during the day but it was close enough and it gave the odd illusion of normalcy that was so foreign to Geoffrey concerning his duties and especially as far as Dr.Reid was concerned. But then again, Reid was anything but normal as far as leeches go. Which in McCullum’s book, made him inherently more dangerous than the average bloodsucker.

His attention shifting when he caught Reid idly humming to a christmas song from nearby carolers while perusing yet another shop like the rest of the last minute crowd collecting gifts for the morning to come. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Jonathan answered half distracted by the ornamental decorations lining the shelf, beautiful crystal works of whimsical displays and carefully blown glass. It reminded him of Mary and the wonder that sparked in her eyes this time of year. He smiled sadly at the crystal works as he moved on.

“You were just singing to yourself.”

“Was I?” He was only mildly surprised before shrugging it off dismissively.

Geoffrey frowned at him, brows furrowed in suspicion as he inspected the doctor with a good long once over as if expecting something unforeseen to make itself known with a second look. Finding nothing of obvious interest other than the package carefully tucked under his arm from the first shop he stopped into that evening, Geoffrey continued to frown. “You’re being weird. Even weirder than normal for a leech.” He prompted.

Jonathan couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up at that. He smiled, a small flash of fangs in the hunter’s direction that made him twitch and shift uneasily. An unintended step back came from the other only to be forced closer by the patrons slipping between them and the shelves of the aisle. His displeasure at the close proximity furthered. 

“You’ve been distracted since you left Whitechapel.” Geoffrey offered as if that could answer all his infuriating questions about the man before him and the current conundrum of his person. He wasn’t his normal frustrating self. He was distracted and unwary. It didn’t take an expert to see it. The way Jonathan’s eyes shifted to lack focus, the way it came and went when he looked at the crystal figures or the decorations. The stiffness that settled into his body when he didn’t think anyone would notice. The vulnerability in his usually prim and proper stance. Even the little slump in his shoulders that would happen faster than he could correct it. It was so unlike the easy going doctor with his smooth words, quick witted retorts and playful taunts. Something more was at play here. Something that made Geoffrey itch with uncertainty. It was almost familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

Jonathan shrugged at the offered piece of information and dismissed it with a shake of the head. He smiled, a barely there twitch of his lips that fell far too quickly. He politely excused himself to slip through the crowd, choosing not to buy anything at all with intent to leave the quickly suffocating space. He didn’t ease up any more once they had made their way outside though Geoffrey had relaxed in the fresh air. His rigid posture eased a little with the freedom of movement and far less bodies to be keeping tabs on in the confined space. Jonathan lingered a moment before pushing on, walking down the back streets to avoid the busier areas, ignoring the bright lights and decorations. He tried not to pay attention to the houses they briskly passed, with the warm lighting and sounds of laughter peeling out of windows and doorways, echoing down the streets and bouncing off the cobblestones.

Geoffrey’s frown only furthered as Jonathan ignored his presence as if he could run away from the night and all it had to offer them. Even the dampness that seeped into his clothes from the prolonged exposure couldn’t dissuade him. The hunter reached out, a firm hand grasping the doctor’s shoulder as he spoke firmly. “Reid.”

He stopped, dead in his tracks. Geoffrey knew he could have pulled away if he wanted. He could have shoved the hunter back or turned on him with a quick snarl and vanished. He could have even fled in a whoosh of shadowy smoke and taken to the rooftops if he really wished it. Instead he remained. His jaw set firmly, eyes far away and more distant than they had any right to be. He squeezed the man’s shoulder and repeated his name more sternly. He gained a flinch of motion, the slightest tilt of his head as he considered answering.

A long suffering silence lingered between them before Jonathan finally spoke. “This is my first Christmas being back home.” He finally offered. So many words were left out, unspoken whispers filling the gaps in Geoffrey’s mind. From what he knew of the doctor, he could piece together the kind of storm clouds currently occupying his thoughts. Holidays were never a pleasant time when shadows lingered in the past. Even less for those who’ve lost so many in the last few years between the war and the epidemic. These days, so few had a reason to celebrate so warmly without the bitterness from tragedy surfacing. Ever since the epidemic ended, he was alone. Geoffrey had watched with a twinge of pain of his own that he often refused to acknowledge as one by one, every person the good doctor tried to save was eventually lost. Everyone he ever tried to help was eventually gone one way or another as if the universe wasn’t finished with the level of cruelty it could bestow upon one man.

Geoffrey hated himself for how close he had become to the leech. How many times he’s caught himself thinking of Dr. Jonathan Reid as anything other than the abomination he is. Because that was not the  _ man  _ he was. He has watched him, on more than one occasion, go out of his way to save those who wouldn’t bat an eye at him. He’s reined in his hunger, never succumbed to a single drop of innocent blood. He’s shown far more restraint than any other bloodsucker he’s had the misfortune of crossing paths with, but Geoffrey couldn’t help but see him as something more. Ever since the man spared his life even with Geoffrey’s threats still ringing in his ears, despite the subtle promises of pain and death, Jonathan always remained the kind and gentle doctor, caring beyond all reason and honest beyond any doubt. He was a truly rare occurrence, not just for a vampire but for a man as well. His reputation was one to acknowledge and respect.

“I’ve found myself unable to enjoy it.” Reid admitted after an extended silence. “It reminds me of France.” That was a topic Reid rarely brought up in detail other than vague commentary to kindred soldiers who survived the same experience. He held his memories close to his chest and buried his traumas.

“Not much to celebrate on the battlefield.” McCullum offered. There was a dry laugh. It was short. A huff of breath that he almost didn’t catch. Jonathan didn’t turn to face Geoffrey though. He kept his head turned, that distant look swelling up once more. The tension coiling under his touch as he began to recede into himself again.

“Listen, the war is over. The epidemic is over. You’ve made great accomplishments since then. The holidays might not be as lively but they’re worth acknowledging for the sheer fact that you’re living to see another one.” It wasn’t exactly the pep talk of the century but he hadn’t expected to be coaching a leech through a crisis of life in an alleyway. Least of all Jonathan Reid of all people. A man more controlled in his emotions than he had any right to be with all the air of someone that took great pride in being a thorn in Geoffrey’s side. It was a thorn, that Geoffrey will begrudgingly admit he would miss very much were it to be absent. Like a true parasite, Jonathan was growing on him strangely enough.

“I uh- thank you.” Jonathan conceded, dispersing the quiet as he collected himself. He paused in his actions before turning to face Geoffrey. The smallest smile pulled at his features, barely hidden behind the scruff of his neatly trimmed beard. He was as shockingly handsome as the first day they’d met and Geoffrey would take that thought to the grave. Those too blue eyes that cast an inhuman glow in the low light and skin as white as the snow that collected on their shoulders. The wind battered his hair, knocking a few strands free of its neatly collected style to fall into his eyes.

Geoffrey nodded, withdrawing his hand and giving the doctor some space. He ignored the disappointed look that was a fleeting flash across his eyes before it was carefully reined back with a polite smile. He glanced down awkwardly at his hands, conflict evolving into something tight and apprehensive. Geoffrey frowned before it shifted to obvious confusion as the parcel in Jonathan’s arms was held out to him. 

“This is for you actually. I knew you’d been following me across the city.” He explained. The white paper was spotted where snowflakes had melted against it and the bow was askew from the wind and being shifted under arm so many times. The hunter could only stare at it dumb struck. “This time of year reminds me of the Christmas truce in 1914.” He continued to explain, pushing the package into Geoffrey’s hesitant hands. “A time where sworn enemies found enough compassion in their hearts to put aside their weapons and their differences to relish in the peace of a few brief days. I thought that if men on the battlefield could salvage the courage in them to do that, then why can’t we do the same?”

The pained look in Reid's eyes showed an intense sort of desperation that was off putting. Geoffrey was aware of the Truce. He hadn't been witness to any of the events that had happened during the years before higher ups banned such practices. British, German and French soldiers had left their trenches under an unofficial ceasefire for the holiday season. They sing Christmas Carol's together, traded supplies, played cards or matches of football. The dead and wounded were recovered on both sides and tended to, prisoners exchanged and food shared. It was such a rare and wondrous sight of humanity and compassion brought on by such a simple shared act. All it took was one lonely man in a trench to start singing a blasted Christmas Carol and all acts of war were forgotten for the sake of desperate men seeking some semblance of home. It was phenomenal.

“We don’t have to be enemies Geoffrey.” He added softly, almost wistful with hope. The hunter stared at the box with a loss for words, examining it quietly. Jonathan didn’t linger to see him open it, parting with a smile that betrayed his fears. “Merry Christmas Geoffrey.”

Call it fear or nerves, whatever you will. Jonathan couldn’t bring himself to wait for an answer. He didn’t expect one to be honest. He vanished in a cloud of smoke and shadows, leaving Geoffrey standing in the bitter cold with a package clutched in his hands. The hunter didn’t open it, didn’t pay it too much thought once he realized he was alone. He made the brisk walk back to the Priwen headquarters, ignoring the odd looks his men gave him at the sight of the package as he scurried towards his office with gruffly spoken dismissals.

It sat on his desk for the better part of the morning and only when the sun started to rise, dawning on Christmas morning, did he muster the courage to open it. Carefully wrapped up in the tissue paper was a dark red scarf made of the softest wool he had ever laid hands upon and of such fine quality that he didn’t doubt the price alone would have cost more than he made in the year. Beside it was a pair of dark leather gloves with fur insulation. They were unbelievably soft to the touch and still allowed for decent mobility in his hands when working. He tried them both on, the scarf was warm against his skin and far nicer than the old worn one he’d been wearing for so long. It would keep the bitter chill away on the coldest nights out patrolling and coincidentally, was thick enough to offer him some peace of mind that a Skal would find it very hard to sink its teeth through the thickly woven wool. If he was spotted on patrol wearing the items, Jonathan never made mention of it but Geoffrey could see in the way he smiled at him, that genuine sort of smile that was too much teeth and made his eyes shine like spilled moonlight. The sentiment was made known and Geoffrey accepted it as a token of their own truce.

**Author's Note:**

> Please kudos and comment below to tell.me what you think! This is my first time writing this fandom and pairing and every ounce of feedback is appreciated!!


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